


Someone to Lean On

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, Episode Related, Gap Filler, Romance, Season/Series 04, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-28
Updated: 2004-10-28
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:13:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Justin deal with radiation therapy. Takes place somewhere within Eps. #410.





	Someone to Lean On

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Brian and Justin deal with radiation therapy. Takes place somewhere within Eps. #410.  


* * *

"Whatever it is, you can bet it’s not a cup of Lipton’s”  
  
Justin frowns. “You’ve been having nightmares? You never told me about that.”  
  
Brian slips from under the hands massaging his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter.”  
  
“I knew you were having trouble sleeping but-”  
  
“Don’t worry. I’m sure your record for the most horrifying nightmares is still intact.”  
  
Brian rounds the island and reaches for his joint tin.  
  
Justin catches his hand in the air.  
  
They stand for a moment, holding hands.  
  
Justin watches Brian’s eyes, but can only read indifference slowly morphing to impatience.  
  
Justin rounds the island as Brian did and eases his arms around Brian’s waist.  
  
Brian’s expression softens ever so slightly.  
  
It was all the indication Justin needs to feel confident breaking his gaze. He loved how of all the hundreds of guys Brian must have been with, that his touch means something, that his touch actually affects Brian. “Come ‘ere.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
The light shone so brightly, there was little to discern from it. Ever so slowly, the brightness dulls and the corridor reluctantly begins to take shape.  
  
In slow motion, two color blobs enter the frame from the foreground, moving in the brightness, slowly moving away into full view.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
On the cushions in the living room, Brian sits on the floor with Justin seated between his legs.  
  
Once again, Justin encircles Brian’s middle, his fingertips pushing under Brian’s shirt. He bows his head, rubbing his hair slowly, steadily against Brian’s chest. Nuzzling, rubbing Brian with his soft hair, Justin strokes in time, up and down Brian’s back with loose, gentle fingers.  
  
Brian sighs and his shoulders drop low, relaxed.  
  
Justin smiles to himself.  
  
“Justin, you really shouldn’t count on me getting hard tonight.”  
  
Slowly, Justin raises his head. His eyes are at half-mast and that smile plays on his lips. He pulls himself closer to Brian. “That’s not what this is about.” He leans in closer, until his mouth hovers at Brian’s ear. With more breath than he needs, he whispers, “Close your eyes.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Two figures move through the brightness. The one in black is taller than the one in light blue. They stride side by side in slow motion up the luminous hallway.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
“I must admit, I’m glad to see that Mr. Kinney has someone with him today. We never recommend driving after a treatment.”  
  
Justin forced a polite smile for the doctor before him. The office was claustrophobic, cluttered. His eyes drift from the medical volumes on the wall to the thick file, open on the desk. The grids and charts and forms and chicken scratch all equaling one diagnosis: cancer.  
  
“Are you family?”  
  
Justin wakes. “Yes.”  
  
“Cousin, nephew? Not his son…?”  
  
“I’m his partner.”  
  
Justin met the doctor’s silence with a steady gaze. The file on the desk shut awkwardly with a thud.  
  
“You realize, I’m not allowed to discuss-“  
  
“Just tell me what to expect,” Justin interrupted soberly. “I don’t need the details. Just tell me what to do. Tell me how to help him.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Brian looked into the “Chamber of Death”, a hollowed out tube of steel, waiting for him, its plastic rolling conveyer protruding from the opening.  
  
Reluctantly, Brian turns and sits on the hard plastic table, waiting for the nurse to position him.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
“He’ll be fine for a few hours. Then you can expect him to experience dizziness, severe nausea, vomiting, fatigue, fever, chills, photosensitivity…”  
  
“Photo…?”  
  
“It’s not uncommon for patients undergoing radiation treatment to become extremely sensitive to light or sound, or both.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
A white hall is empty as Brian and Justin make their way up it. The gray doorways they pass are also empty, yielding no sign of life but them. In slow motion, the couple makes their way up the hall.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Justin has Brian’s hands in his. Straddling him, Justin slowly moves Brian’s hands over his own body, squeezing as they crest the dip of his waist, spreading Brian’s fingers as he moves the willing hands to his chest, pushing his thumbs against Brian’s thumbs, massaging his nipples. Watching Brian’s face, studying the way his lashes flutter against his closed eyelids, Justin guides Brian’s hands to his ass and presses them in place beneath him.  
  
Instinctively, Brian grabs the cheeks and pulls Justin closer.  
  
Justin gives way under Brian’s grasp, leaning in closer still, studying Brian’s closed eyes, his slightly parted lips, the smirk that hangs at the corners of his mouth.   
  
_Good_ , Justin thought. _You’re supposed to enjoy this._  
  
With his hands planted in Brian’s hair, Justin suddenly brought his mouth down on Brian’s neck, sucking him hard, stroking his jugular wildly with his tongue and just as suddenly releasing him before Brian could finish a gasp, followed by a nervous chuckle. Justin snickers mischievously. Grinning, he rests his head on Brian’s shoulder, pushing his hair into Brian’s face, feeling Brian’s racing pulse against his.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
“… and of course there’s keeping him from getting dehydrated.”  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
  
  
Brian lies flat, strapped on the plastic table. The noisy conveyer slowly drags the table into the chamber.  
  
Brian fidgets despite himself.  
  
 _Don’t think about it_ , Justin whispers somewhere in Brian’s head.  
  
Brian closes his eyes just as he disappears completely into the “Chamber of Death.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
“Think about this,” Justin breathed hotly against Brian’s face. He brushes his lips lightly, randomly against Brian’s outstretched neck and razor-stubbed face, his smooth chest and his closed eyes.  
  
Brian takes his right hand and slowly slides it up Justin’s back.  
  
Justin grabs the hand and pushes it between his legs. “Think about this Brian.”   
  
He watches Brian’s face as he guides Brian’s hand along the contours of his hard on. He guides Brian’s left hand over his body once more, this time beneath his shirt, against his hot skin.  
  
Soon Brian’s hands roam hungrily without Justin’s guidance.  
  
Justin wants to close his eyes, but he doesn’t. He fights the urge to lose himself in his own pleasure and focuses instead on Brian. He locks his gaze on Brian’s face, sharing this new exploration as completely as he can with him. He holds back no utterance or sigh, giving voice to every moan or shutter Brian elicits from him while tenderly tracing each inch of his small frame. Justin makes himself pliable in Brian’s touch, giving his body over… wanting to be taken…  
  
Brian’s hands slow and Justin realizes for the first time that he’s panting. Justin takes over with wet sweeping kisses, sucking any skin his lips come in contact with. With a sudden heavy kiss, Justin pushes Brian down to the floor. He lays flat atop Brian, squirms between his legs and grinding against Brian’s thighs.  
  
Justin thrusts his hips gently against Brian in just the right place and Brian’s eye pop open.  
  
They look at each other, searching, excited. But neither has words for this moment. They lie together, staring, both breathless with longing. Brian watches as Justin’s eye start to glisten before him. He’s still the most beautiful boy Brian has ever seen.  
  
Justin feels Brian’s fingertips dig into the small of his back. Brian reaches his hand behind Justin’s head and pulls him down into a hungry kiss, forcing Justin’s mouth wide, exploring wildly with his tongue.   
  
Justin gives in, letting Brian have his lips, his tongue, whatever he wanted. Then somewhere in the midst of the kiss, Justin takes over, softening the tension of Brian’s mouth on his, gently, rhythmically sucking on Brian’s tongue, lulling the urgency the kiss started with. As Justin slowly pulls away from the kiss, he wipes his hand over Brian’s face, his fingertips brushing against his eyelids, reminding Brian to keep them closed.   
  
“Tomorrow, think about this,” Justin whispers, renewing his gentle assault of tender kisses and the guided exploration of Brian’s hand against every inch of his skin and the steady rocking of his hard cock against his partner. “Think about me.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Brian and Justin walk steadily up the hospital corridor, passing rooms on either side of them and a gurney that sits parked and forgotten in the hall. Halfway to the nurse’s station, Justin reaches out and wraps his arm around Brian’s waist.  
  
With a quick glance down, Brian drapes his arm around Justin.  
  
  
  
  
Brian is in darkness.  
  
There is nothing. No sound. No aroma. No walls. Just darkness.  
  
Yet in the darkness he sees he is naked.  
  
In an uncharacteristic rush of modesty, he covers himself.  
  
 _Where the fuck am I?_  
  
“Over here.”  
  
Brian turns.   
  
A single shaft of light penetrates a patch of black and is filled slowly with another dark silhouette. With a step forward, the person is revealed as the nurse from Brian’s surgery. She wears scrubs and stares at him blankly. “We’re ready to remove the next one.”  
  
The nurse takes another step forward, raising the scalpel in her hand.  
  
Brian recoils. He takes a second step backward and a third, matching the nurse’s steps advancing on him.  
  
He hears a voice behind him. “Don’t think about it.”  
  
Brian knew it was Justin without looking. He felt a hand grasp his hip, and another drag fingers up his neck and dig gently into his hair. “Think about this.”  
  
Brian closed his eyes, concentrating. When he opened them again, the shaft of light and the nurse slowly fade away.  
  
Brian feels Justin slipping a shirt onto his shoulders.  
  
He finally turns around to Justin – who has disappeared.  
  
In that single turn, he’s clothed. There is light. And he sees the maze all around him.  
  
Barefoot in jeans and a denim shirt, Brian makes his way through the red brick labyrinth.  
  
  
Dead end.  
  
Left or right?  
  
Round the corner to – Darkness – go back.  
  
Brian swoons, grabbing his abdomen. He falls against the brick wall, trying to breathe, waiting for the pain to pass.  
  
“Come on Brian.”  
  
Brian looks up to see Vic Grassi standing beside him.  
  
Vic smiles. “You’re not really trying to run, are you?”  
  
Panicked, Brian pushes himself off the wall and runs in the opposite direction, Vic’s voice echoing after him. “You’re only delaying the inevitable.”  
  
The labyrinth opens into a room of brick with a familiar dark doorway waiting on the other side.  
The nurse emerges from the darkness again. “We’re ready to take the next one.”  
  
Brian shakes his head, confused and frightened. He turns and walks directly into Justin’s arms.  
  
“Don’t think about it,” Justin said calmly. His hair is long and blonde and beautiful again. He wears exactly what he wore the night they met: jeans, T-shirt under a blue plaid shirt that was too small for him.  
  
Justin plants his hands on either side of Brian’s face, making sure their eyes meet. His face is perfectly content and that has a calming effect on Brian. The nurse in the shadows is instantly forgotten. “Think about this. Think about me.”  
  
Justin leans onto his toes and wraps his arms around Brian’s neck.  
  
Brian allows himself to be pulled down into the embrace. He stands rocking in Justin’s arms, his face buried in Justin’s blonde locks.  
  
They part and Justin gives him the sun. He smiles his brilliant beautiful smile, his eyes filled only with Brian.  
  
Brian smiles back, drawn in by the sunshine.  
  
Suddenly, Justin stumbles forward with a gasp. His happy smile gives way to confusion. He jerks forward again, falling limp into Brian’s arms, to reveal the nurse right behind him, the scalpel in Justin’s back.  
  
Behind Brian, Vic watches. “It’s inevitable.”  
  
“Justin!”  
  
  
  
  
Brian forces his eyes open. It takes a moment for him to realize he is in his own bed. The loft is filled with the auburn light of dusk.  
  
Justin shimmies down from his sitting position to lie beside Brian. “Hey, I’m right here.”  
  
Brian doesn’t move. He watches Justin a moment, both confused and relieved. “You cut your hair.”  
  
“Yeah.” Justin answers cautiously. “You told me you liked my hair.”  
  
Brian blinked. It helps him remember. Stockwell. Rage. Cody. Right… “It’s hot.”  
  
Justin blushes and the anxiety from Brian’s dream leaves him.  
  
He reaches out and scrubs at Justin’s short, honey-blonde mop. His eyes drift shut and he falls fast asleep with his palm still resting on Justin’s face.   
  
  
  
  
Justin waits several moments before taking Brian’s hand from his cheek and several more before carefully tucking it back beneath the blankets.  
  
He lays with Brian, silently watching him sleep, something he had been doing a lot lately. He had come to learn the evenness of Brian’s breathing in sleep, the leisurely way Brian’s eyes rocked behind his lids when he hit REM. Justin knew to expect Brian to reach for him in his sleep, to grope him, or stroke his hair like Brian himself probably didn’t even know. It made the words “I love you” less essential to Justin. Even though waking Brian would never say the words, Brian’s unconscious could not hide his love, his desire, his need for Justin.  
  
Once the breathing is right, and Brian’s eyes dance just so, Justin slowly sits up in bed. He scans his partner’s still form, checking that Brian is indeed covered in blankets from head to toe. Satisfied, he rolled over and returns to his textbooks.  
  
With a sigh, he tucks a condom into his chemistry book, marking his place and sets it atop the pile of schoolbooks, exchanging it for another rather thick book. A last glance Brian’s way and Justin crosses his legs, settling down with The Cancer Cookbook.  
  
  
  
  
The stylus hovers over the screen canvas endlessly.  
  
Justin rolls the utensil round in his fingertips, waiting for his hand to do something.   
  
He tries to hear the traffic, the central air, to feel the contours of the chair he was sitting in. Nothing transformed itself into inspiration.  
  
He never had to think about it before, it just happened. His hand would start and somehow   
his mind and heart would engage in the beautiful act of creation. But it all begins with his   
hand, deciding on the dance, be it a waltz or a rave, to set everything in motion.  
  
For three days, his hand did not dance.  
  
Justin begins to feel the computer staring back at him, challenging him, taunting him. Justin didn’t like it.  
  
He scans the dining room table and eventually the room itself, waiting for inspiration to hit.   
  
Nothing.  
  
Finally, he glances over at Brian, sleeping.  
  
In his sleep, Brian had wrestled his head and hand from beneath the numerous blankets to hang over the side of the bed.  
  
The hand…   
  
The way it hangs over the side of the bed, surrounded by tangled folds of fabric…   
The way the slight light of the loft shades each knuckle and finger differently…   
Yes.  
  
Before Justin even realizes what he’s doing, he replaces the stylus in its holder. Turning, he switches the computer off. He reaches for his sketch pad and rummages in his ceramic cup for a sharpened pencil. Finally finding one, he flips to a fresh page in his pad and turns to engage his inspiration.  
  
  
The hand is gone.  
  
Brian is gone.  
  
The bed and covers are empty.  
  
A painful heaving comes from the bathroom.  
  
Justin tosses his sketch pad aside and dashes for the bedroom.  
  
  
  
  
A dry heave grips Brian an endless moment, forcing his body into a painful concave arch with his face fully in the toilet bowl. The third heave produced sinfully small deposits of white mucus that dripped slowly from Brian’s wide open mouth. He grips the bowl with both hands, waiting for the spasm to release him. Another mercifully short wretch and Brian can finally lift his head slightly, gulping down air. His stomach settles momentarily after its forceful effort to expel the medicinal poisons in his body. Tears forced from him by the episode ran unnoticed down Brian’s face. He senses a presence at the bathroom door.  
  
“Brian-”  
  
“I’m alright!” Brian snaps, still panting.  
  
Brian listens to Justin’s bare feet make their way towards him across the stone tile. He flashes Justin an angry glance. “Christ! Just leave me the fuck alone!”  
  
Still trying to catch his breath, Brian turns back to the toilet. But before he did, he sees it. The look in Justin’s eyes. He recognizes that look, remembers it: the fear, the helplessness.   
  
Brian wipes the tears from his face. Air begins to reach his lungs. And Justin has gone.   
  
Relieved, Brian settles back on his heels, furious with himself. How did he ever let this kid weasel his way into seeing him like this?   
  
The cold of the stone tile floor begins creeping up his limbs just when another heave forces him forward thrusting mucus from him. The heaves hold his body captive for torturously long seconds, birthing a throbbing between his eyes.  
  
The attack subsides. Brian renews his quest for breath, slumping back onto his heels.  
  
With his body growing cold and his head ready to explode from sudden fever, Brian hears the sound of bare feet padding on the stone tile towards him. He feels a presence beside him, but took his time looking up, knowing it was Justin.  
  
Before he can object, he feels an ice cold cloth spread on the back of his neck. Brian’s first instinct was to brace himself against it. But the longer Justin held it there, the calmer he felt himself become. Magically, his breath comes easier and the pressure between his eyes lessens.  
  
Justin pulls the towel away and Brian can feel his symptoms rushing upon him again. He steals a glance at Justin, kneeling beside him, wringing a dark wash cloth in a large bowl of ice water. Justin presses the cloth against Brian’s forehead. Brian can’t believe how much the small action alleviated the barrage of illness.  
  
The wash cloth having warmed, Justin turns and wrings it out again. He refolds the cloth and rinses with care and speed, then places it on Brian’s neck. “Can you hold this?”  
  
Brian obeys while Justin looks in the toilet before flushing it. “That’s not so bad. You had a lot more soup than that.”  
  
Justin kneels back behind Brian, pushing a saltine into Brian’s mouth and pulling the wash cloth away in the same motion. “Try and eat this. Lindsay says they settle your stomach.”  
  
Chewing with great effort, Brian watches Justin rinse the cloth in the ice water. He marvels at how concise and fluid Justin repeats his task. The fear in Justin’s eyes is gone, replaced with a silent focus, just like Justin has when he’s drawing.  
  
Justin pressed the cloth on Brian’s head and wraps an arm around him. “You’re shaking. Is it too cold?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“We should get you off this floor.”  
  
“But it’s so nice down here.”  
  
As quickly as Brian manages a sarcastic smirk, he goes white and his eyes flutter shut as he crumbles against Justin, sending them both back against the marble siding of the sink.  
  
When Brian opens his eyes, he already knows exactly where he is. He sits on his own bathroom floor, eye level with his Italian porcelain toilet. He remembers why his head throbs and his gut is doing somersaults. He can't remember how long he's been there. He feels his own trembling for the first time, because he trembles against Justin, who holds him quietly in his arms, steadying him.  
  
Something must have happened, because Brian can feel Justin’s heart pounding hard against his shoulder. He feels the young man lightly stroke his hair.  
  
“Brian? Let’s get you into bed,” Justin whispers.  
  
“I’m staying right here, thanks,” Brian quips. Realizing stillness will keep his side effects at bay, he concentrates on being as still as possible, and slowly begins to feel himself getting warmer. He smiles at his success.  
  
Brian opens his eyes. Didn’t realize they were closed.  
  
He sees why he is warming up. Justin is carefully spreading a blanket over him with one hand. A blanket Brian had not notice before now. That awful cheap fleece throw that Justin takes camping.  
  
Having wrapped Brian up in the blanket as best he could with just his right hand, Justin produces another saltine from his shirt pocket and waves it before Brian’s mouth.  
  
“No.”  
  
Justin bites the cracker in half, and waves the second half in Brian face. “Try.”  
  
Brian nibbles, and then eats the cracker.   
  
As he chews slowly, Justin picks up the ice towel regiment with his free hand, still cradling Brian with the other. His hand begins to shake in the towel against Brian’s neck.  
  
Brian feels Justin lift his hand away, then replaces it once it is still. It reminds Brian of all they have been through together. Since the moment they met, they have been there for each other, however unintentional.  
  
Brian deliberately closes his eyes and relaxes against Justin.  
  
Justin shifts a little, adjusting to the new weight against him, choosing the slightest movement to make their bodies fit together perfectly.  
  
Brian knew he would. They were the oddest couple and the most perfect compliment to one another. Brian decides to let sleep take him. If he was to die now, he was exactly where he wants to be, in his partner’s arms, Justin’s fingers weaving through his hair.  
  
Right at the edge of sleep, Justin kisses Brian’s head and Brian resists sleep long enough to realize how grateful he was Justin was with him, and how dumbfounded he was that he had ever lived without him.

 

 

 


End file.
